


Adjustment

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Series: Cigarettes and Miniguns [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love him, Mentioned Marcy, Nick is a darling, Nora is sad, mentioned Mama Murphy, mentioned Preston Garvy, mentioned jun - Freeform, nothing cheers you up more than a hug from everyone's favorite robot detective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9660344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: | e'jestment |NounThe process of adapting or becoming used to a new situation.





	

It's only a few weeks after her sudden exit from the Brotherhood of Steel. It's odd, taking up residence at Sanctuary. She feels like she doesn't belong here and she often finds herself missing the Prydwen.

However slowly, but surely, she does grow closer to the settlers living in her old neighborhood. Mama Murphy regales the Vault Dweller about her adventures across the Commonwealth. Nora isn't sure if her stories are real, over exaggerated tales, a fantasy created by a haze of drugs, or a mixture of all three. In the end, it doesn't really matter. The elderly woman seems to have taken her under her wing even though Nora doesn't really _need_ anybody to look after her. It's still nice, even when the woman fixes her with a steely glare when she skips a meal to head out early.

Jun and Marcy Long were more... complicated. Jun worries and rubs his hands together as he tries to help fix up things. He's gone through a lot and Nora tries to involve him, even though he always insists that he isn't very good company. It's true, sometimes he does say the most soul crushing things and ruins the morale entirely. Despite his nature to be a wet blanket, he's sweet and kind and always eager to help.

Marcy is usually angry and bitter about anything. It baffles Nora how those two people were able to socialize without complications. Well, opposites do attract. The one compliment Marcy paid her was somewhere along the lines of, "Okay, so this place isn't so bad. It's not a _complete_ dump." Marcy did have her good points, though, she is an _amazing_ shot.

Preston reminds her of Danse. Isn't that strange? They're both dedicated to their cause wholly and completely and they both would do near anything for the good of the Commonwealth. Grant it, Preston is more focused on settlements- and good gravy (Garvey, heh.) there are a lot of settlements she needs to help. It feels as if every spare second Preston walks apologetically up to her and tells her about another settlement. Danse always talked more about how synths needed to be destroyed and ghouls needed to be killed and super mutants needed to be exterminated. She agreed with Danse about ferals, mutants, and synths. She just doesn't agree with his inability to see the exceptions, such as Nick or that caravan leader, Daisy.

Still, she feels herself settling into a comfortable routine once again.

It's when she opens the door that everything shatters again. The blue crib is still there, the room still untouched by the various settlers moving in. Nora can feel the tears gathering, she'd been trying to push it out of her mind for so long. Now that she no longer had the Brotherhood on her side, she'd been set back to practically where she first began. No way into the Institute, no way to find her son.

Six months... Six months since she'd stumbled her way out of the Vault.

She ran a hand over the centuries old wood, the blue paint was chipped and peeling and the mobile creaked in the hot wind. She didn't know how her son's crib had managed to survive after all this time, and if it wasn't such a painful reminder she might have been thankful to have just one remnant of Shaun.

She touched the mobile and somehow a few discordant notes, vaguely reminiscent of the original tune, tripped their way out of the contraption and fell to the ground with a last weak hurrah. It was enough for her to remember and see Nate, as if it was yesterday, gather the crying Shaun up in his arms as they left their house in a rush.

Nora collapsed by the crib, hand griping the faded worn wooden bars as if they were her lifeline. Her other arm was muffling her broken sobs as she tried to gather herself and failed spectacularly.

Now, perhaps given time, she might have gone unnoticed... but when you're a robot with sensitive hearing and you're just passing by the house- you would notice.

Nick was doing just that.

He followed the sounds of muffled crying and it led him inside a house to a closed door that had once been white two centuries ago.

The detective worriedly opened the door, brow furrowing. His expression softened, when he saw Nora and the crib, "Oh doll..." A second later, he knelt down by the Vault Dweller, hand rubbing her back soothingly, "We'll find your son don't worry."

They stayed like that for a while as Nora let out the despair she'd been holding in for so long. She hadn't cried in a long time, and it was therapeutic to _finally_ let go.

As her sobs slowed into soft hitches, she fully realized that Nick was there and had been holding her for quite some time. She straightened and sniffed, trying to recover, "I'm sorry- I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Hey, hey, it's alright, doll. Everyone needs to let it out sometime."

She gave a wet laugh, "Even you?"

He gave a shrug, "Definitely not in the same way, but yeah. Even me."

There's a moment of silence before Nora says softly, "This was Shaun's crib... I- this is my house." Nick's optics take in the room before he responds, "A lot of places seem to hold painful memories."

She swallows, "Swan pond. Where the giant Behemoth lived? Nate and I's first date."

"East Boston police station, where you killed all those ghouls? You stole the fan off my- _Nick's_ desk, or at least, out of the old office."

Nora laughs, voice losing the bit of raggedness, "Really?"

"Yeah, I didn't think that was really the right time to tell you, specially when the glowing one started charging from across the room. You took the telephone too."

Nora giggles, the sort of laughing one does after you've cried for a long time, "Who would've thought I'd be taking everyday things and hoarding them as if they were precious objects?"

"Eh, you just have an odd thing for antiques."

Nora snorted, "Obviously. After all, I hang around with you, don't I?"

"Fair point."

She laughs, a full bodied laugh that's still slightly broken but on the mend. Nick gives her a small smile and pats her on the back with metal hand, "Things'll get better doll, you'll see, and before you know it you'll be making new memories."

Despite the fact that the crib stands empty and her old house creaks in the poisoned wind, Nora can't help but believe him.


End file.
